


Fallen Sky

by LifeOfRiley



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Loki Needs a Hug, Psychodrama, Slice of Life, Yet Another Loki Redemption Fic, i have no idea what i am doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeOfRiley/pseuds/LifeOfRiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight months since the Battle of Manhattan. The Avengers are invited to the long-delayed trial of Loki, leading to one of Tony's worst (or perhaps best) ideas yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

 

(Go straight to the next chapter if you'd like to skip the Preface)

Ah, yet another 'Loki is redeemed' story. Not like there aren't a million of those already, eh? Well, let's have another one. This story can best be described as a slice-of-life psychodrama, with the odd bits of comedy here and there. I'm playing fast and loose with canon; this story diverges from Marvel Cinematic Universe canon directly after _The Avengers_ , so there'll be no references to _Iron Man 3_ , _Thor 2_ , _Captain America 2_ , or any other post- _Avengers_ MCU film. Regarding the Norse paganism elements, I'm drawing more from actual history (what little of it we know) and my personal interpretations of it than from comics canon. I might take a few bits and pieces that catch my eye, but if you're after a totally faithful response to existing Marvel canon you might want to look elsewhere. Consider yourself duly warned; unless there is a point of canon I've missed from _Iron Man_ , _Iron Man 2_ , _Captain America_ , _Thor_ , or _The Avengers_ , then canon complaints will be disregarded and privately laughed at.

Regarding content, swearing will be kept to an absolute minimum, but there may be some unpleasant descriptions of violence and other assorted physical badness, hence the Teen rating; trigger warnings will be posted at the beginnings of any potentially upsetting or triggering chapters. Sexual content is slim to nonexistent – though I will be writing Loki as pansexual - , romantic content will be minimal, but present in the background. The only 'ship' that will occur in this story is the established Tony and Pepper, so please don't beg for your favourite 'ship' or start wars in the comments section.

Similarly, suggestions for what could happen next will be disregarded, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't make them. The story is already pretty much plotted out, with a bit of room for improvisation, so if there's a story point that resembles something you've suggested then that is entirely coincidence.

One last thing; I'm English, and have never been to... probably _any_ of the places this story will go to, so though I try to be as thorough as possible with my research I may slip up here and there. I thus beg clemency as a poorly-travelled Brit, and corrections for location details and the like will be much appreciated. I may also slip into Commonwealth spellings here and there, despite my best efforts, so if you catch any superfluous 'u's or what-have-you, or words that don't occur in American parlance, please let me know and I'll make the necessary corrections.

 

Thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

 

After an hour of driving Pepper mad by tossing and turning in bed, the heat had driven Tony to a midnight rendezvous with his workbench. He scrolled through his library of 3D assets, searching for anything that might be fun to fiddle with on a 96 degree night. A little servo caught his eye, and he rotated the model in his hands once or twice before losing interest and moving on to the next thing.

The door behind him hissed open, and Bruce's voice pulled his attention from the interface. “Can't sleep, huh?”

“Nope.” said Tony, returning his attention to the holographic model in front of him.

Bruce gave a tiny chuckle. “Me neither.”

“Thank you, I would never have guessed.” Tony flicked to the next model in line, then the next one, barely acknowledging Bruce as he strolled over. He went back and forth between a pair of transistors for a minute or so, debating their relative boredom-relieving merits, then ignored both of them. Bruce said nothing, just peering over Tony's shoulder as he pretended to work. Several dozen rejected models later, Tony spoke up. “There something you want, or..?”

“Just bored out of my skull.”

“That makes two of us. You wanna go get drinks?”

Bruce frowned. “Tony, you know I can't drink.”

“Why do you always assume I mean alcohol?” Tony leaned back in mock offense.

“It's a reasonable assumption.”

“It is absolutely not reasonable. You make me sound like an alcoholic.”

“Tony, you are an - ”

“Okay, you know what? I'm gonna go have a delicious, ice-cold, non-alcoholic smoothie all by myself.” Tony pulled the models back into their folders, and headed over to the door, making a point of looking mortally offended.

“Can I come?” asked Bruce, watching as Tony left.

“Sure, why not.”

Two grapefruit smoothies later, the pair of them slouched around the penthouse suite of Stark Tower, cursing the heat, their lives and their mothers for bringing them into this terrible, terrible world. Bruce found a cool-ish spot by the air conditioning vent, while Tony paced back and forth like he was on rails.

Crunching an ice cube in his teeth, Tony threw open the balcony door in the hopes of getting some air into the room; the air remained infuriatingly still, just to spite him. Bruce took a swig of his smoothie, and said, “If your climate control isn't doing anything against this heat, I really don't think opening the door is going to help.”

Tony swallowed the last of the ice cube. “I don't see you having any better ideas.”

“Short of turning down the sun, I've got nothing.” Bruce wiped his sweat-caked hair from his forehead. “I wonder what Norway's like this time of year...”

“Humid and full of mosquitoes. I don't recommend it. You wanna head down to the server room?”

Bruce winced at the thought. "We're not that desperate yet, are we? I really don't fancy bundling up in parkas in the middle of summer."

Through the open door came a breath of wind, eliciting a cheer from Tony. “Yes! Come on, come on, blow, baby, blow! Blow like you mean it!”

“Tony, are you even listening to yourself?”

“Barometric pressure and I have something special, all right? We don't need your little judgments”

Bruce rolled his eyes and headed over to the door, where the wind had begun to pick up after a night of stifling stillness. Something tapped him between the eyes, and he lifted one hand to the wind. Several more raindrops found their way to his hand, and Tony, realizing what Bruce was doing, stuck his whole head outside. A grin exploded onto Tony's face.

“It's raining! Sweet, zombie Jesus, it's actually raining.” he said, running out onto the balcony with nothing but bare feet and boxer shorts. “Go grab Pepper, we're having a roof party.”

“What if she's asleep?”

“Roof party!”

Bruce turned away, mumbling something about Tony's funeral under his breath as he went. By the time he returned, with a surly-looking Pepper in tow, the heavens had truly opened. Tony's wet footprints led in and out of the penthouse, and he stood grinning over the mini-fridge which was almost as soaked as he was.

“Tony,” said Pepper, not yet crossing the threshold into the pouring rain, “I had just gotten to sleep.”

“Don't care, roof party.”

Pepper narrowed her eyes as Tony grabbed a cocktail shaker from the fridge and poured a pair of martinis.

“You just gonna stand there?” he asked, holding up the two cocktails.

“Are you really asking me to come and stand in the pouring rain with you?”

“It'll be romantic. Now you can either come out here, or stay in there and get a martini that's ninety per cent water.” Tony sipped his own and beckoned Bruce out onto the balcony as well. Bruce took the hint, and as he took a tentative step out into the deluge, Pepper bit her tongue and followed. Tony handed her the martini with a flourish and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the three of them looked out over the city as thunder rolled in the distance.

Bruce pushed his, now rain-sodden, hair out of his eyes. “Were they predicting a thunderstorm for tonight?”

Tony shrugged. “God only knows - ”

“The weather report was for it to keep getting hotter these next couple of days.” Pepper cut Tony off expertly, with the authoritative tone of one who'd spent a great many years correcting him.

“Okay, fine. God and Pepper.” Tony swished the last of his martini around, then tilted his head back and downed it. Something caught his eye, and he didn't lower his head. “Hey Bruce,” he said, lifting a hand to keep the rain out of his eyes, “that look like a Mach cone to you?”

Bruce and Pepper both looked up, and despite the rain Bruce's eyes widened. Above them, a vaguely conical trail of vapor could just about be seen against the storm clouds, probably invisible to someone who didn't know what they were looking for. Bruce took a step back. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Tony's voice became instantly more severe. “You two, get inside, keep away from the glass, but leave the door open. JARVIS, get the suit ready. Oh, and cover your ears!” Tony gave his friends a shove towards the door as JARVIS gave the affirmative. Heedless of the howling storm he rushed to the suit access hatch on the roof, where JARVIS had already begun preparing the suit. He got into position and felt each component clamp around him, locking into place. As his face plate descended, Tony activated the thrusters and took off into the gale.

“Sir, in spite of all previous experience showing this to be pointless, I must urge you to be cautious. The wind speeds are in excess of forty miles an hour.” JARVIS' voice chimed through the suit's speakers.

“Little late for that now, JARVIS. Any idea what that thing is?”

“All I can tell you, sir, is that it appears to be decelerating.”

“Well, that's a start.”

Rain slammed against the suit's exterior like tiny gunshots, and the wind made a steady course impossible. Tony leaned into the wind to compensate, angling his body to force a stable trajectory while hoping to high hell the wind didn't shift. Despite growing closer the Mach cone seemed to shrink, and his HUD showed the bogey's speed plummeting. “JARVIS, decrease power to the thrusters. I don't wanna get caught in that thing's sonic boom.”

“A wise decision, sir.”

Whatever was leaving that cone behind it seemed to be aiming for Stark Tower. His suit's sensors estimated it at being maybe five miles up, and moving at just under Mach 2, then Mach 1.8, then Mach 1.5... whatever that thing was, it had damn fine brakes.

Even slowing down it closed the distance fast, and just as it fell to Mach 1.1 Tony figured out what he was looking at. “JARVIS, are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“Given that I am directly linked to the suit's optical sensors, sir, yes.”

“In that case, you're in the perfect position to answer me; is that a goddamn horse?!”

“It would appear so, sir.”

Mach 1... Mach 0.9. Barely subsonic now, but that was good enough for Tony. The Mach cone dissipated, and Tony drove himself higher until, a mile and a half above Manhattan, he and the - the horse - met, and then passed one another. With a loop de loop Tony brought himself towards the ground and put on a burst of speed to just about catch up with the thundering horse. The horse's rider twisted around to look back and must have recognized him, given that he started waving with such exuberance Tony half expected him to fall off. Through the driving rain Tony couldn't quite see his face, but a flash of red caught his eye. He only knew one person who wore a red cape and had access to such improbable means of transport.

In the next few seconds Stark Tower grew awfully close. The horse slowed itself to Mach 0.04, and by the time Tony had told JARVIS he didn't really need to see the speed in Mach numbers any more, it had skidded to a halt on the wet concrete of Tony's roof, leaving a nice scrape mark behind it. After spinning himself to land feet-first, Tony dropped onto the roof beside his supersonic guests. His face plate retracted, giving him a faceful of rainwater, and put on his best disapproving glare for the dismounting Thor.

“Tony, my friend!” The sodden Thor boomed, extending his arms. Tony stepped back, raising his hands and intensifying his glare.

“No. No. You do not get to drop a supersonic horse onto my roof and pretend there's nothing weird about that. No.”

A quizzical expression took Thor's face, and then a beam. “Ah, him?” he said, giving the horse's shoulder a wet-sounding slap. “This is Sleipnir, my father's steed, greatest of all horses!” The horse's head rose a fraction, and he gave an approving whicker.

Tony raised an eyebrow as he got into position to get out of the suit. JARVIS obliged, dismantling the suit with efficiency and speed. “Your dad's horse? So what, is this the Asgardian equivalent of taking your dad's car for a joyride?”

“Nothing of the sort!” Thor sounded offended, though it was sometimes hard to tell if he was joking. “My father offered me the use of Sleipnir for this journey. Now come, let us get inside! I must speak with you.” The next slap was on Tony's back, and Thor strode over to the open door, with Sleipnir close behind. Something seemed odd about the horse, like it was too long, but in the darkness Tony couldn't make it out. He jogged after them as Thor turned to look at him, apparently having enough manners not to invite himself in.

“The horse stays outside.” Tony said as he headed back into the dry. Seemingly in response, Sleipnir stretched out his neck and whinnied, baring the whites of his eyes.

Placing a hand on Sleipnir's shoulder, Thor lowered his voice. “The horse goes where he pleases.”

“I'm not having a soaking wet horse dripping around my penthouse.”

Sleipnir stamped a hoof, and leaned even closer to Tony.

“Or... maybe I am. Nice horsey.”

Inside, Thor made himself at home by sprawling out on the couch, while Sleipnir looked about as though judging every interior design decision Tony had ever made. In the light, Tony could see what had bothered him about the horse;

He had eight legs.

Tony found himself counting them several times. With only a single martini under his belt, this was not the alcohol giving him double vision. Thor had ridden in on a supersonic, mutant horse.

Sleipnir caught Tony looking at him, and turned his head to look back with both eyes. Tony broke eye contact immediately, finding anywhere but the legs to look. An uncomfortable few seconds passed, until Tony could bear it no longer. “All right, Thor, Thor. I've got to ask. What the hell happened to that horse?”

Thor pulled himself around to lean over the back of the couch. “His legs, you mean? Sleipnir is born of a great deal of magic. He can run on land, on water, on air, even in the spaces between the realms.” Sleipnir made a whuffling noise, as though to remind them that he was still in the room. Tony's eyebrows rose, but the sound of four more feet diverted his attention.

“Tony, can we come out n- oh dear lord.” Pepper froze in the hallway, staring at the man and horse who hadn't been there when she left, while Bruce just shook his head in disbelief.

“Bruce!” Thor bounced to his feet and charged over to them, picking up Bruce in a bear hug. “Oh, how good it is to see you!”

Bruce squirmed in the mighty Asgardian grip. “Yeah... missed you, too, Thor...” He winced as Thor maintained the pressure, only to take a breath of relief when he finally set him down.

Pepper watched with saucer-eyes as Thor turned to her and bowed his head. “Forgive my rudeness,” he said, in probably the quietest voice he had used thus far, “I am Thor Odinson, lord of storms and crown prince of Asgard.”

Between the confusion and shock it took Pepper a moment to realize that Thor expected a reply.. “Pepper Potts... CEO of Stark Industries.”

“It is an honor, Lady Potts.” Thor raised his head again to look her in the eye.

“Pleasure's all mine.” Pepper replied. “You were with the Avengers at the battle of Manhattan, weren't you? Tony and Bruce have mentioned you a couple times.”

Thor's face dropped for a moment, but he put his smile back on as soon as he noticed. “That I was. They've been saying only good things, I hope?”

Pepper and Tony exchanged one of their mischievous glances. “More or less,” said Pepper. “So, uh, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Thor looked between Tony and Bruce, his grin fading into a sombre frown. “I have been sent by my father, Odin Borson, to gather the Avengers and to ask them to honor a request. I will speak more of it when we are all together. Have you means of contacting Fury?”

“Can't you just tell us now?” asked Tony.

“This is a matter for mutual consideration. The decision must be reached together, or not at all.” Thor turned away, sending droplets of water from his cloak flying.

Tony shrugged, and Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Fury's not exactly an easy guy to get a hold of.” said Bruce, brushing the water from his shirt.

“He'll be around soon enough. Things like Mach-speed sky ponies tend to catch his attention.” said Tony.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Pepper beat him to it. “What? Are you - that thing in the sky was the horse? That - oh, what is wrong with its legs?”

“He's a magic horse.” said Tony as the sound of wet hooves drew closer.

Pepper buried her face in her hands. “Of course he is.”

Sleipnir came to a halt before the four of them and snorted. Forcing an uneasy smile, Bruce lifted a hand for him to sniff. “Uh... hey there.”

Sleipnir leaned towards the extended hand and flared his nostrils. He deliberated for a moment, perhaps contemplating the scent of two bodies in one, before accepting him with a whinny.

Thor turned back from looking out over the city. “Sleipnir extends his greetings, and thanks you for having the manners to say hello.”

Bruce paled. “Wait, what?”

“Did... did he say that?” asked Pepper, looking at Thor with equal parts concern and skepticism.

Sleipnir snorted, and the brief flash of the whites of his eyes probably translated to an eye roll, while Thor laughed again. “Of course he did! It is as Tony says, there is magic in Sleipnir's blood.” Sleipnir nodded, then added a soft whicker. “He apologizes that he cannot make himself understood by humans. Sleipnir's language is not technically supported by the Allspeech, so in order to understand him you have to have a little magic yourself.”

“Yeah, I'm just going to assume those words actually mean something and move on.” Tony waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. Thor almost said something, but the beeping of Tony's phone caught him off-guard. Tony whipped his phone out of his pocket, seeing the familiar 'blocked number' screen that could mean only one person, and put it to his ear. “Took your sweet time.”

Fury's voice never failed to make him nervous. “Stark, I'm standing at your front door looking up at where, ten minutes ago, I was told there was a high-velocity bogey heading straight for your roof. Would you care to explain what it was, and where it is now?”

“Oh, that thing? Don't worry, that was just Thor flying in on his magic mutant horse. No biggie, you can tell the Air Force they can stop panicking now.” Tony began to make his way back to the balcony, out into the still-pouring rain.

“I'll get right on that. I'm sure they'll find the 'magic mutant horse' explanation very comforting. Now, is there any particular reason the god of thunder just showed up on your doorstep? Something tells me he didn't tear through the fabric of time and space just for a late-night get-together.”

Tony leaned his weight on the railing, looking down to see a tiny speck of someone who might be Fury on the sidewalk far below. “Oh, yeah, about that. He says he wants to get the Avengers together, something his dad wants. Can you do that?” Tony waved. Fury did not wave back.

“Thor say anything else about this?”

“Zip. Apparently he wants us to consider this thing together. I don't get it either, but I'm not about to argue with him. Guy hits like a wrecking ball, and I don't think his horse likes me either.” Behind him, Bruce, Pepper and Thor had ventured out into the elements, all listening intently past the roaring wind.

Fury paused at his end. “All right. I'll see what I can do. Give me a couple of days to get Barton and Romanoff in one place and figure out where the hell Rogers has gotten himself to. I'll be in touch, Stark.”

Fury hung up before Tony could reply, leaving him with just the 'beep' of his phone. “Left his damn manners at home...”

“Has he agreed?” asked Thor, and Tony noticed that he had leaned uncomfortably close during the course of his conversation. Bruce and Pepper looked to him expectantly.

“Yeah,” said Tony, “he has. Gonna take a few days to get the band back together, but he'll make it happen.”

 

* * *

 

Two days after Thor arrived, the meeting was arranged. Agent Sitwell had shown up to take them to Fury's location, and Thor had entrusted Pepper's safety to Sleipnir (Pepper had not been enthused by the idea).

Everyone took their seats in the little conference room they had been assigned, except for Thor and Fury. Thor took his place at the head of the table, while Fury stood off to one side to observe the proceedings. “My friends,” Thor began, “I would thank you all for gathering here at such short notice. As Fury may have told you, I am here on behalf of my father, that you might consider his request.”

Thor took a moment to collect himself, then said, with a deep breath,“The time has come for my brother to be tried before a court of the realms. As you have seen Loki's actions firsthand, my father should like you all to be present.”

Clint's eyes narrowed. “It's been eight months, and you're only just getting around to trying him? What the hell kind of priorities do you people have?”

Thor lowered his eyes. “... Certain circumstances have delayed the trial. Only recently has my father decided to move on with it regardless.”

“Circumstances?” asked Bruce.

“It would be easier to show you, than to describe them. I will not demand an answer now; you are free to discuss whichever course you wish to follow.”

“Honestly,” said Clint, looking down at his hands, “I want nothing more to do with the guy. Do whatever the hell you want with him. As long as it doesn't involve me, I don't care.” His voice betrayed his words; it was the tone of someone who did care, very much, but for whatever reason was trying to be nonchalant.

Thor sighed, with a heaviness only an Asgardian could pull off seriously. “Clint, of all the Avengers, the one whose presence my father wanted most is you. You have a unique insight into Loki's machinations - ”

“Unique? Unique? You want my 'unique insight', take Fury along with my debrief notes! Take Tasha, she's heard everything! You put me in a room with that guy, I can't guarantee he'll have any teeth left at the end of it.” The whole team recoiled at Clint's outburst, and Clint looked back down at his hands. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize” said Natasha. “Nobody's forcing you to go.” Clint said nothing, retreating back into the safety of his silence.

Thor let the silence hang for a few moments before continuing. “And the rest of you? How do you feel in this matter?”

Steve rolled his shoulders. “If you need my help bringing Loki to justice, I'm there.”

“Why the hell not, I'll go. How often do you get to go visit the realm of the gods?” said Tony.

“Tony,” Steve looked over his shoulder, “this isn't a vacation.”

“It is if I make it one.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Bruce stopped fidgeting with his hands for a moment and spoke up. “How do we know Loki's not going to try anything?”

“My brother is securely contained. On my honor, he will not present a threat.”

“I hope you're right...” said Bruce, resuming his usual hand-wringing. After a moment he spoke up again, this time in a smaller voice than before. “I'll go. If... if you can guarantee nothing... problematic will happen.”

“Bruce, I swear to you - ” began Thor.

“What, bunch of loud angry Viking guys shouting at anyone who'll stand still long enough sound like a problem to you, Bruce?” Tony grinned, giving his friend a gentle nudge in the ribs and earning himself half a dozen looks, ranging from the withering to the merely disappointed, from the rest of the group.

“Tony's words are entirely exaggerated.” said Thor. “Asgardian courts are sombre, dignified affairs.”

“Speaking of Asgard,” said Natasha, “how do we plan on getting there? Last I heard, you had a bit of a transportation problem.”

“He has a horse.” said Tony.

“A horse.” Natasha lowered her eyebrows.

“It's a magic horse.”

Thor turned his gaze to Natasha. “Travel should not be difficult. As Tony says, Sleipnir can bear us between the realms.”

“All of us? All at once?” asked Steve, looking somewhere between concerned and incredulous.

“Sleipnir is the finest of all horses! He can carry a dozen Asgardian warriors.”

“Yeah, I'm more worried about the simple act of getting us all on. No matter how good of a horse he is, there'll be an upper limit to the space on his back.”

“Well, if space is a problem, I think I can deal with letting Natasha sit on my lap and - ow.” Tony recoiled from the punch Natasha landed on his shoulder. Bruce leaned over to him and whispered,

“You deserved that.”

Tony rubbed his shoulder and put on a miserable face. “I absolutely did not. Bruce, I thought we had agreed that I am not responsible for my actions.” Bruce just chuckled and shook his head.

Thor did not restrain a smile. “We can travel in smaller groups, if you would prefer.”

“How long do you intend to keep us there?” asked Natasha.

“I cannot say for certain. No more than two weeks at the most. We will have to allow for the other speakers and observers at the trial to be brought to Asgard, and then for the trial and sentence itself.”

Natasha nodded. “I can run to two weeks. I'm in.”

“Excellent.” said Thor. “Are we all in agreement? All of us, minus Clint, will attend the trial?”

Off in the corner, Fury spoke up for the first time. “I'll authorize two weeks of absence. Contact me if you're going to be longer.”

There was a general murmur of assent. Thor gave a smile - a slightly sad one, if the corners of his eyes not turning up was anything to go by. “Thank you all. Asgard owes you a great debt. Be prepared by tomorrow morning - we shall leave with the sun.”

“Leave from where, exactly?” asked Steve, leaning into the back of his chair.

“I'll organize a place we can fire a high-velocity horse from without causing any concern. Stark, you can expect a horse trailer showing up at your doorstep in the small hours.” said Fury.

“Make sure it's a long horse trailer. There's a lot of horse to fit in there.” said Tony.

“I'll do that. Now, if nobody has anything else to say, I'm gonna go ahead and assume we're adjourned. Are we adjourned?” Fury looked over at Thor.

“We are adjourned.”

“Brilliant.”

The team idled for a few minutes, saying their goodbyes and their see-you-tomorrows. Clint pulled Thor aside for a moment.

“I'm sorry.” said Clint, his voice wavering in a way Thor had never heard before.

“It is of no consequence.” replied Thor, laying a hand between Clint's shoulder and neck. “You are a friend, and I will not force you to do this.”

Clint managed a smile. “Thanks. This whole thing just... sits badly with me.”

Thor nodded. “I understand.”

“Glad one of us does.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, but did not question Clint further. A few more minutes passed, and the team slowly dispersed. Tony tugged Thor by the cape and hauled him and Bruce back to their waiting car, and together they headed back to Stark Tower.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome home, sir.” JARVIS' familiar voice came over the speakers as the three of them entered Tony's loft.

Tony leaned on the doorframe as he pushed open the door. “Yeah, thanks JARVIS. Keep an eye out for a horse trailer on our doorstep, would you? Fury's taking us and Shadowfax on a roadtrip.”

“Certainly, sir. Although I do question the wisdom of putting Sleipnir in a confined space.”

“You and me both. By the way, Thor, you're breaking it to him. He hates me enough as it is.”

Thor hesitated, then nodded heavily. “Very well. Though I doubt very much that he will like it.”

A questioning whinny came from the other side of the open door, where Sleipnir lay sprawled in eight different directions. Tony nudged Thor forward, and Bruce took an instinctive step back.

Thor took a deep breath. “Sleipnir, my friend! The team have agreed to return with us for the trial.” In response Sleipnir nodded, holding his head a little lower than he usually carried it. “Unfortunately, Fury has requested we leave from somewhere from where we cannot cause any disturbance.” Sleipnir lifted his head again, and nickered something that made Thor's face fall. “I know you can, but you must understand, magic-infused horses are not the Midgardian norm. You cannot simply sprint through Manhattan and not cause a commotion.” Thor said, and not even lifting his hands in a mollifying gesture could soften Sleipnir's glare.

Sleipnir let the moment draw out for longer than anyone present felt comfortable. Only when Bruce began clutching one arm and looking around the room did Sleipnir snort and turn his face away.

“Sleipnir, please. I know it does terribly by your honor, but please let us take you to Fury's rendezvous.”

One ear flicked in Thor's direction, and Sleipnir gave another, low whicker.

Thor forced out a chuckle, rocking back on his heels. “The humans have a contraption called a 'horse trailer'... it is a steel chamber on wheels, hitched to the back of a motor vehicle.” Sleipnir's ears flattened. “It shall only be a temporary discomfort, I promise you. I know not how far from civilization Fury wishes we go, but I will not stand you being kept confined for long.”

“Far from civilization?” Pepper's voice approached from the end of the hall, followed by the ubiquitous click of her heels. “Is Fury borrowing you again?”

The three of them spun around, and Tony leaned up and gave her a peck on the forehead the moment she was within kissing distance. “Kinda-sorta,” said Tony as he came down from his tiptoes, “he's borrowing us so Thor can borrow us so Thor's dad can borrow us.”

Pepper looked up at Thor, requesting an explanation with her eyebrows. “We are trying Loki.” said Thor, having learned the language of Pepper's eyebrows over the past two days. “My father requests the Avengers' presence.”

“And I take it you're both going?” Pepper said, flicking her gaze between Tony and Bruce.

Tony grinned. “Yes indeedy. Don't worry, I'll send you a postcard.”

Pepper let her gaze hang on Bruce. “Yeah,” he said, “I'm going too. Don't worry, I'll be fine.”

She smiled. “Bruce, Tony employed me to worry. If I didn't, he'd probably be dead or in jail by now. You're getting worried about whether you like it or not.”

"Uh... I appreciate it?" said Bruce, kneading his hands as his mouth couldn't figure out what to say.

Tony made no attempt to keep his laugh subtle. "We're leaving at oh-dark-thirty, Pep. Can you clear everything for a couple weeks and apologize to everyone I inevitably disappoint?"

"A couple of weeks? I'll postpone the Grams meeting, that's all you've got going on. You're lucky it's summer."

"Funny how things work out like that. You can hold the fort while I'm gone, right?"

"That name plate on my office door doesn't say 'CEO' for nothing. Take care of yourself, Tony."

"I'll do that. Speaking of doing things, I've got things to do. Bruce, you got anything to do?" Tony turned away halfway through the sentence and began heading for the elevator.

"How about packing?" said Bruce, with just a hint of sarcasm. Tony stopped mid-stride and, if his face was anything to go by, mid-thought.

"Yeah. Uh. That's, that's a thing to do. I'll, uh, get right on that."

Bruce smiled. "Might be a good idea."

 

* * *

 

The trailer arrived at a quarter past one in the morning, and left half an hour later after goodbyes to Pepper and a long, laborious negotiation with Sleipnir. Thor's intent of leaving with the sun had to be put aside, as sunrise came and went long before the convoy reached its destination, somewhere in darkest Pennsylvania. Tony had long since grown bored of reading road signs.

The black helicopter pulling up from the ground gave away the rendezvous point. The truck and its trailer slowed to a halt, and Thor dived out before the wheels even stopped turning. Tony and Bruce hopped out after him, followed by their nervous-looking driver. Already at the back of the trailer, Thor pulled open the bolt holding it closed. Faster than anyone could see him react he threw himself off to one side, narrowly avoiding being trampled as Sleipnir charged to his freedom.

Thor pushed himself to his feet and brushed off the dust while Sleipnir stood prancing a few hundred feet away. Bruce took a cautious step forward, keeping one eye on the horse at all times. "You all right there, Thor?"

"Yes, I'm quite all right." Thor shook the dirt out of his hair. "Please, forgive him. He was not born to be confined."

"Yeah, I can see that." said Tony, inspecting the various hoof-shaped dents in the trailer.

Bruce ran a hand across his forehead. "And we're supposed to ride him?"

"He will be no trouble under saddle, I swear to you."

"I'll hold you to that." Bruce looked over at Sleipnir, who had decided to come trotting back. Beyond the soft whumps of four pairs of hooves on dirt came the surprisingly similar sound of four pairs of combat boots on dirt. With a precision only military experience could bring Fury approached the group, Agent Hill at his right arm as ever and Natasha and Steve on either side.

"Glad you could make it." said Fury as Steve exchanged quiet 'hi's with the new arrivals.

"Had a little trouble with the transport," Tony shot a meaningful look at Sleipnir, "but we got here mostly intact. Hope you didn't rent that trailer, though."

Fury looked sidelong at the trailer, but if the damage concerned him he gave no sign of it. He then turned his eye to Sleipnir and appraised him for a moment, eternally unfazed even by an eight-legged monstrosity of a horse.

The same could not be said for the others. Hill squinted as though unsure of what she was looking at, Steve found himself peering back and forth between Thor and Sleipnir, and Natasha just wrinkled her nose in something between fascination and disgust.

Steve forced a chuckle and made his eyes sit firmly on Thor. "This guy our ride?"

"Indeed." Thor reached up and scratched Sleipnir's nearest ear. "Sleipnir can pass between the realms at will."

"Are you seriously all going to dogpile onto his back?" said Hill. "Even with... whatever's going on with him, I don't think you're all getting on there at once."

Sleipnir snorted at the implication, and Tony leaned closer to Hill. "Magic horse."

"I gathered that, Stark, thank you."

"It might be easiest to travel in two groups." said Thor. Sleipnir whickered something, to which Thor nodded. "Weight shall not be a concern if you do wish to travel all at once."

"Can I just... cast a vote quickly?" said Bruce, looking to Fury like a nervous schoolchild. Fury nodded, and Bruce continued. "Can we not, you know, all squeeze on and crush me? I guess what I'm saying is, I'd appreciate some breathing room. If nobody minds, that is."

"Nobody minds, Bruce." Steve said it first, leaving Tony, Natasha and Thor with their mouths hanging open for a moment.

"Sorry. Thanks. I just - " Bruce was interrupted by the sound of an approaching engine. Fury's hand fell to the pistol by his hip and he stepped forward. The team turned to see, off in the distance, a rising cloud of dust with a sleek black motorbike at its head.

"I thought this place was a S.H.I.E.L.D. secret." said Steve, as he pulled his own shield off his back.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, wrapping her hands around her own pistols. "That makes two of us."

The bike drew closer, approaching at a rather alarming speed. For a long moment the team stood, waiting for some cue to react. Fury remained motionless as the bike advanced, the dust cloud behind it fading as it began to slow. Between the distance, the dust and the rider's helmet, no-one could make out their intruder's identity, but Fury's calmness held the team back.

He raised his gun in a slow, measured arc, leveling it at the bike. His finger, however, did not sit on the trigger; clearly he had no intention to shoot just yet. The tension in the team was palpable as the bike came close enough for them to hear the crunch of gravel under its tires When it finally stopped about twenty feet away Fury took another step forward, gun still raised as the rider dismounted.

When the rider removed his helmet, it was as though somebody had let the air out of the team all at once, with a chorus of sighs of relief and exasperation. Clint tucked the helmet under his arm and gave Fury a tiny, cautious smile. "You got room for one more?"

Fury raised his eyebrow. "I was under the impression you wanted nothing to do with this whole affair, Agent Barton."

Clint looked away, turning his awkward and quickly fading smile to the team. "I needed closure."

Fury's gaze softened a little, the closest he would ever get to a smile. "All right. We leave in ten."

"Thank you, sir." Clint headed over to the team, casting a quizzical glance at Sleipnir as he went. Thor beamed down at him, and Natasha gave him a look of equal parts welcoming and deep, irreconcilable disappointment.

"Clint, for the love of god, next time just call ahead. My blood pressure's high enough as it is." said Natasha.

Clint put his smile back on. "I left in kind of a rush."

Thor spoke up, his voice quieter than most of them had ever heard it. "Thank you, Clint. This gesture means more than you know."

Clint looked up at the looming Thor. "Don't worry about it." His expression darkened a little. "I'm doing this for me."

Thor nodded. "I understand. But I am grateful nevertheless."

The pause in the conversation hung for a moment until Sleipnir stepped closer to Clint, his dark eyes softer than they had ever been to the rest of the group. Clint recoiled, still visibly nervous, but he forced himself to stand his ground as the enormous horse stretched out his neck towards him and touched his nose to Clint's arm. Nobody said anything, and Sleipnir backed away again as the moment passed.

Behind them, Thor had left to fetch Sleipnir's saddle and bridle, while several agents attempted to stow their luggage on Sleipnir, experimenting with various configurations of ropes and webbing while still leaving room for the riders. After some final checks the stowage held fast, even when Sleipnir made every attempt to dislodge it, only stopping when he was content that it wasn't going anywhere.

With the final preparations made, Thor stood in quiet conversation with the horse only he could understand. The others looked on, waiting, until he beckoned them over. "It is agreed," he began, "Sleipnir shall make two trips. First, he shall bear Romanoff, Barton and myself. Then we shall return and carry Rogers, Stark and Banner. Is this acceptable?"

"Let's just get on with it," said Tony, "we've been standing around doing nothing for too long as it is." Though Steve gave him a slightly disappointed look - Tony could almost hear the lecture about patience - nobody dissented.

"Very well. Let us depart."

Between them, Thor and Sleipnir negotiated the first group onto Sleipnir's back. As Sleipnir stood maybe seven and a half feet tall at the shoulder, this was easier said than done. Clint, naturally agile and with phenomenal upper body strength, managed to get himself up first, despite pulling a chunk of Sleipnir's mane out in the process, much to his displeasure. Natasha took two attempts to get up, but after an awkward misjudgment of the height she pulled herself up into the saddle, while Thor sprung up to sit behind them like he'd been doing it all his life. He probably had, Tony reminded himself. The three remaining behind took several steps back, to Thor's vague amusement, and once everyone was set, the gathered agents waved them off.

A light touch from Thor's legs sent Sleipnir galloping off, sending up a cloud of dust before blinking out of existence just as he neared the horizon. With a hand over his mouth and nose Steve watched wide-eyed, while Tony wore a deliberately unimpressed expression. "You didn't tell me he could do that." said Steve, pulling his hand away as the dust began to settle.

Tony shrugged. "I told you. Magic horse."


	3. Chapter 3

 

Bruce peered off in the direction Sleipnir had vanished, watching for any sign of his return. Minutes passed. "Did Thor mention how long it takes to travel between the worlds?" he asked, rubbing his eyes from the increasingly fierce sun. Tony and Steve exchanged a look, and the ensuing silence told them all that he hadn't. "Oh, boy..."

Minutes continued to pass. "So what do you think Asgard's like?" said Steve, clearly trying to make conversation. Bruce opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he said was lost to the roar of air rushing past them into the vacuum of a dimensional rift. Their eyes slammed shut on instinct, and several agonizing seconds passed until the air rushed the other way, filling the wake of a very fast horse. Steve opened his eyes first, to see Thor and Sleipnir skidding to a halt several hundred yards down the asphalt. Sleipnir slammed his feet down hard and made what must have been the equine equivalent of a parking brake turn, bringing his four back legs around in a skid that could not have been comfortable for Thor.

Tony and Bruce opened their eyes as Thor and Sleipnir came cantering back towards them at a pace that seemed like a crawl compared to the unnatural speed they knew Sleipnir could reach. His next halt was neat and silent, and Thor, no worse for the wear, extended a hand down to help them up. Tony scrambled up like a beached fish, eliciting a great many snorts from Sleipnir as he kicked and elbowed him in the ribs until Steve pushed him up by the feet. He then gave Bruce a leg-up, as nobody wanted to irritate their ride further, and finally pulled himself up slowly and cautiously, not too proud to refuse Thor's help in dragging him up. Thor waited for the three of them to finish adjusting themselves, then asked, "Are you ready?"

Tony responded with a thumbs-up, and before Bruce or Steve could weigh in Thor nudged Sleipnir onwards, sending the wind screaming into their faces. What had been the horizon a few seconds ago grew larger and larger, and Tony couldn't quite suppress the irrational fear that they were about to go flying off the edge of the world. He didn't have long to worry, though, as without any warning reality split open, and for a split second Tony could only remember those terrible minutes in the void of space, with nothing but emptiness in every direction. Here, not even stars glowed, and he could see nothing, not even Sleipnir's ears in front of him. He wrapped his hands tight around Sleipnir's mane, desperate not to fall, until the emptiness passed away and, with a jolt, Sleipnir's hooves hit hard ground again. Tony swallowed the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He risked looking down, and past the blur of legs he could just make out a panoply of colors, but he didn't look for long. Sleipnir hit the brakes again, and, in a token gesture of respect for Newtonian physics, Bruce and Steve skidded forward and slammed into Tony's back. With a yelp Tony fell forward onto Sleipnir's neck, and found himself clinging for dear life as the universe began to slow down around him. Bruce's rapidly tightening arms around his waist threatened to force his guts into his chest cavity, and Tony shut his eyes and tried to ignore the blood rushing into his head.

Tony wondered what would happen when they stopped. Would the laws of momentum take over and send him flying over Sleipnir's head? Or would whatever preternatural force had kept them on board so far stop him before he became a reddish puddle on the floor? The wind roaring past his ears seemed to be slowing, and the grinding noise coming from beneath Sleipnir's feet began to grow quiet as Tony found himself wondering what kind of material could possibly make horseshoes strong enough to withstand this kind of abuse. Then his stomach lurched, and his nose skidded along the back of Sleipnir's neck. It took him a moment to find the courage to open his eyes.

The world had stopped flying, which was a start, and he could no longer hear hooves past the pounding in his ears.

"Is everyone okay?" Steve asked. Bruce's heavy, ragged breathing sufficed for an answer, and Tony mumbled something noncommittal. Thor chuckled behind them and swung off, if the sound of boots hitting the ground was any indication.

"Come along!" he said, entirely too cheerful for Tony's liking. "I'll help you down."

"I'm... I'm gonna need a minute." said Bruce, finally finding his voice.

"Uh... okay, I'll go. Here we go." Steve took a couple of deep breaths, paused a moment, then lurched down from the saddle, landing hard as he fell seven feet onto his heels. He hissed something under his breath, and Tony twisted around to look. Thor had just about caught Steve, holding him rather ungracefully by his armpits, but from the sound of the landing it hadn't done much good. Steve was trying not to wince.

Tony remained resolutely where he was. "Yeah, not filling me with confidence down there. You guys got a stepladder or something?" Sleipnir snorted in what Tony was certain was condescension. "All right, fine, fine, I'm going. God dammit." Grabbing the front of the saddle, he tried to visualize how he was going to get down. "Hey, Bruce, could you shuffle back a bit? Thanks, buddy." With a little bit of leg-room - and Bruce now perched on the point of Sleipnir's first set of hips - Tony brought his right leg up and onto the saddle, to the sound of poorly concealed laughter from Thor.

"No, no, one quick swing, one fluid movement! Over and down, all at once."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." Tony wriggled to get himself sideways, holding his chest against the saddle with all his strength. How the hell did Thor do this so easily...? Throwing fear to the wind, Tony let go.

He hit the ground, unsure if Thor caught him before or after he landed. Pain shot up through his feet as the floor met him before he expected it to, and he swore. As Thor let go he slid his hands to his knees, trying to take control of his breathing again. "Easy," he said between puffs, "easy when you know how."

Thor grinned, and as the pain faded Tony began to take in his surroundings. They stood upon a vast bridge, made of some kind of crystal, perhaps? His mind ran through possible materials that could refract light the way it did, glittering with a thousand different colors Off in the distance its jagged, broken end disappeared into a void, taking the heaving ocean below them with it, and if he squinted he could just about make out somebody's silhouette standing tall at the far end. Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached down to touch the ground. Cold and hard, closer to marble than glass in texture, and completely unmarred by Sleipnir's hooves. Tony's mind shuddered at the force it would have taken to break it.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Steve staring open-mouthed, and turned to see where the bridge led.

"Whoa."

Beyond the shadow of the colossal gate that guarded the bridge rose vast domes and towers of white and gold and silver, their smooth, elegant arcs shining in the midday sun. Every building could have been a palace or cathedral. The city was pockmarked by groves of trees that might have been entire forests for all Tony could estimate the distance. Away to his right, for no reason he could readily discern, four vaguely cuboid structures floated some distance above the ground, silhouetted against the blue, star-flecked sky. Part of Tony's brain questioned how the stars were visible in the middle of the day when there was clearly an atmosphere, but given the weirdness of the rest of today he elected not to dwell on it too long.

"Okay... okay. I think I'm good." came Bruce's voice, and Tony and Steve turned back to face him. He had negotiated himself into sitting sideways on Sleipnir's back, his tiptoes against Sleipnir's raised hind leg.

Tony folded his arms. "Why does Silver give Bruce a leg down and not me? This is blatant favoritism" Sleipnir fixed him with those dark, uncaring eyes and snorted something that could only mean 'because I don't like you'. A laugh fell from Bruce's throat and he slipped, to find himself balanced on Sleipnir's leg. The horse flicked his ears and turned back to look at Bruce with a soft whicker and slightly tilted head.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry, I can manage." Bruce steadied himself against Sleipnir's side and hopped down, not even needing Thor to help. He patted Sleipnir's shoulder and looked out over the city for the first time, then fished his glasses out of his pocket and looked again. "Well. That's... that's certainly something."

"Indeed it is. My friends," said Thor, striding to the front of the group and opening his arms wide, "I formally welcome you to Asgard, the city of light."

***

Nobody could miss the royal palace, looming as it was above the entire city like an elegantly designed mountain. A carriage had picked them up on the other side of the gate, and after staring wide-eyed out of the windows at the city's pearly architecture, laid out with mathematical precision and attention to detail, they stopped at the foot of the palace's stairs. Huge golden statues leered down at them, silent but infinitely judgmental. Thor stepped out of the carriage, and, upon seeing him, the guards at either side of the immense doors made a signal. The doors swung outward, and Thor, beckoning the others follow him, began to make his way up the stairs after a nod of his head to the carriage-driver. The three humans filed out, still a little overawed, and together the four of them began the upwards trek.

From the ground the stairs had looked fewer than they actually turned out to be, and a good five minutes passed before they reached the top. They rejoined Natasha and Clint, who were milling about and casting occasional glances inside. The door-guards bowed - for Thor, Tony assumed - as they passed, not rising even as the doors closed behind them. Inside, the thunder of the closing doors echoed all the way to the high, vaulted ceiling, with its carvings that looked intricate even from so far below. People and horses and monsters stood in bas-relief, wreathed with intricate knotwork, perhaps acting out stories from before humanity had even separated from the ancestral apes.

Tony forced his attention away to take in the rest of the hall as Thor watched their reactions with one of his wry smiles. Many eyes fell upon them, lords and ladies in their finery peering and whispering to one another at the visiting strangers. From out of one of the many corridors honeycombing the walls emerged a group of what were probably servants, who with the silence and efficiency of practiced stagehands began to divest them of their luggage. Tony pulled away as one of them attempted to take the suitcase he had refused to stow in Sleipnir's webbing. "Whoa - whoa. Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Not the suitcase, okay? That stays with me. And the rucksack. No offense, I'm sure you're excellent at your jobs, but nobody touches those."

The servant drew back and bowed from the waist, keeping his head low. "Of course. My apologies, honored guest. I did not mean to offend." He set about taking the rest of Tony's - not inconsiderable - baggage, checking with a glance whether each new item was acceptable to be taken. Once he had everything Tony would let him take, he was considerably more laden than the others.

"Are you incapable of traveling light?" said Natasha, whose luggage had taken all of two seconds to transfer.

"Traveling light is for people who don't have as much stuff as me." said Tony, and Natasha's eyebrows rose in reply. Tony continued,"Just because you can live out of a drawstring bag doesn't mean civilized people have to."

Steve shook his head, giving Tony a gently despairing look, followed by an apologetic glance to the servant-turned-pack mule. Silence settled again as the five of them took in their surroundings, while Thor waited.

"Impressed?" he asked, still with that lopsided smile on his face.

"Yeah," breathed Steve, with a hint of childlike wonder. "So this is where you grew up?"

"That it is. This is my home, and yours for the time being."

Bruce looked back to Thor, not quite incredulous but close. "We get to stay here?"

"Of course! You are guests of the royal family, it would be rude to make you stay anywhere else. Ah, yes, allow me to see you to your quarters. I oversaw their preparation myself!" Thor beckoned in a grand gesture and made his way towards one of the many corridors with the confidence of one who knew every inch of the place. Tony resolved to stay close to him, as he clearly knew where he was going. The group followed, Natasha checking over her shoulder periodically out of old habit and Steve, Bruce and Tony sneaking glances down every hallway they passed, while Clint remained resolutely looking forwards. Even in the corridors the ceilings stood high above their heads, and the silvery-white walls were far enough apart for the various guards and servants darting about to pass them by without even slowing them down. Lovingly-placed mirrors and lanterns kept the space light, and banished the claustrophobia it might otherwise cause.

The corridors wound with a sense of purpose inscrutable to the casual observer, and though Tony made a mental map as they went, without any significant landmarks he wasn't sure he could make it back to the great hall if he needed to. He briefly considered asking for a ball of string to mark their path, but given the spotlessness of the floors and the occasional servants sweeping and scrubbing it, he didn't think it would stay put for long. They turned off into another corridor, with a high wooden door at the end that Tony suspected might be older than all the humans present put together - including Steve. Carved into it were more writhing knotwork patterns, danced around by hunters and their horses. A huge stag stood in the very center, for some reason with apples hanging from its antlers. Thor paid the craftsmanship no attention, and pushed open the door.

Beyond it the walls opened out into an antechamber with elaborately painted walls, several of what appeared to be Asgardian equivalents of _chaises longues_ and, of all things, a fountain, decked with various water plants, in the middle. Another door stood in each of the five walls not opening into the corridor, just as elaborate as everything else in the palace. The group slowed to take in the sight as they entered, and Thor fished a set of keys from wherever he kept his pockets, counting one through five.

"Here," he said, distributing the keys. He had a look of pride in his eyes as the team took keys at random. Checking the handsomely engraved numbers on their keys the team opened up the doors, and Thor watched with anticipation.

Tony fumbled with the lock for a second, not used to the L-shaped Asgardian key, with its backwards-facing teeth. After a little brute force the pins engaged, and the door opened. Inside, the far wall stood about half an Olympic swimming pool away, with several dividers and curtains in between, as well as, among other things, at least three sofas, the largest fireplace Tony had ever seen and a four-poster bed that could probably accommodate all six of them at a squeeze. His luggage had been set down neatly beside the cupboards.

"We get a suite?!" said Bruce, taking a step back as his door swung outwards, then leaning in to look around in disbelief.

Thor looked a bit puzzled. "But of course. You are my guests."

"But... I mean... wow. Uh, thank you. Wow."

Thor hesitated, something he rarely did, then laughed a little awkwardly. "You needn't be humble! This is my gift to all of you."

Bruce mumbled something appreciative, and the conversation slowed. They went about the business of settling in, finding where the bathrooms were (on the other side of the cupboards, invisible from the doorway), figuring out how to work Asgardian kettles, and being mildly outraged but not entirely surprised by the absence of coffee (Tony briefly became very popular after it was discovered that he had packed some in case the Asgardians didn't have his favorite blend).

After Tony obliged his curiosity by investigating everyone else's suites, to make sure he didn't like theirs better than his own, socializing faded as the team unpacked and settled in. Clint's first order of business had been to locate the spare bedding and, finding it wasn't enough to convert the impractically large bed into a nest, had found his way into everyone else's linen closets as well. Natasha had figured out the most efficient way to barricade the door, Bruce rummaged through the bookcases and promptly devoured as much Asgardian literature as he could, and Steve spent the first few hours drawing and photographing just about everything in his room.

Tony had always been grateful that the other Avengers all appreciated their solitude. It wasn't that Tony didn't like socializing - anyone who knew him would laugh at the suggestion - but sometimes, he needed to step away. Now comfortable in the knowledge nobody would be bothering him for a while, barring emergencies, he hauled his rucksack onto the bed. It landed heavily, and Tony began to open the zippers and clasps that held it closed. A small blue glow illuminated his face as he exposed the computer carefully stowed within, powered by a hastily-thrown-together arc reactor. Fishing the keyboard from one of the side pockets and double-checking the tangle of cables, Tony booted it up and held his breath.

It took a full minute for the machine to boot up; unforgivable by Tony's usual standards, but here, without a twenty-four-thousand square foot basement stacked with three levels of wall-to-wall servers and environmental control that blurred the line between air conditioning and refrigeration, it would have to do. The small screen (actually a cannibalized tablet) came to life, and Tony smiled at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Good morning, sir."

"JARVIS! Good to hear your voice, buddy. How's the lightweight rig doing?"

"Slower than optimal, and somewhat limited given the general lack of wireless functionality, but diagnostics indicate that all systems are working correctly."

Tony nodded, his eyes flickering over the diagnostic results streaming onto the screen. "That's what I like to hear. How about the suit, is that talking to you?" Tony gestured to the suitcase at the foot of the bed, ready to grab it in case it needed some tweaks.

The screen changed to show the data flowing between JARVIS and the suit. "Indeed. Without a satellite link its operational range is limited, and the sheer amount of data exchanged when active will mean all non-essential functionality will have to be shut down, but the mini-server should be able to handle it with efficient data management."

"Good stuff. You gonna be okay without your servers?"

"I should be, assuming you didn't throw out anything vital when paring down my databanks for portable use."

"Did I? I don't think I did."

"If you did, I won't know about it. I should have sufficient memory to store two weeks of continuous data, but I would appreciate it if you could shut me down in non-essential moments."

Tony grumbled, but relented. "All right, I guess. Let's see if I can't optimize some of this code..."

With Jarvis' help, Tony wiled away the hours fussing over code, aligning JARVIS' clock to local time, and applying hot fixes where only Tony's rampant perfectionism saw the need for them. At one o'clock (though Tony's brain told him it wasn't even ten in the morning yet), he looked up with a start at the sound of a knock on the door. It was none of his teammates' usual tones, so he slid JARVIS down to the other side of the bed where he couldn't be seen from the door, then made his way over to it and pulled it open.

Tony's eyes widened at the sight of his visitor. On the other side stood a gentleman with his head bowed low, displaying long, bright white hair tied back in an elaborate braid. He looked up, and Tony's eyes widened further at the sight of his face. His skin was a deep oil-black, iridescing blue and green like a magpie's feathers under the foyer's light, and his tapering ears must have been at least four inches long. He regarded Tony with a gentle, knowing smile.

"Good afternoon, Howardson," he said once Tony had stopped being surprised, "I am Edurik Aerreson. I hope the accommodation is to your satisfaction."

Despite his surprise, Tony didn't miss a beat. "It's pretty swanky, but my surname's not 'Howardson'. It's Stark."

"I see. My apologies, Stark. I was not aware that your people no longer used the traditional patronym." said Edurik, in the tone of a diplomat rather than someone who actually cared about what Tony had to say. "I have been sent to inform you that the king and queen have requested an audience with you and your companions." From the slight edge his voice took, Tony suspected that the local royalty did not 'request' anything.

"All right, when do they want us? Now? I'm good to - " he began, but Edurik's faintly disapproving glance downwards at Tony's worn sweater and horsehair-covered slacks cut him off. Tony's gaze followed, and the sentence ended abruptly. "I'll go get changed."

"That may be wise, sir."

***

Now clad in the dinner suit Pepper had insisted he bring along - though he had given up on the bow tie - Tony joined the rest of the team, dressed to as close to the nines as any of them ever got. Bruce looked deeply out of place in the suit Tony had bought him the first weekend of their living together, and Tony could see a thin sweater under Clint's dress shirt. Steve stood at attention in his dress uniform, complete with spit-shined shoes, and Natasha, clearly still not entirely comfortable with the new place, had opted for a fairly plain dress, her sturdy pants just visible past the hem. The flat shoes reminded Tony of just how short she actually was, and why she so rarely wore them.

As Edurik hurried them through the labyrinth of corridors, Clint looked increasingly uncomfortable, and Tony slipped through the group towards him. Natasha didn't seem worried about him, so there was that, but Clint's face was usually an unreadable mask. "Clint, buddy," said Tony as Clint instinctively fell into step with him, "you okay?"

Clint kept his voice low. "What season is it here?"

Tony almost laughed, but then realized he didn't know either. "Hey, Ed!" he called, and Edurik's ears turned to him before his head did. "What season is it right now?" Clint winced and looked away.

"It is summer, sirs." Edurik answered, putting emphasis on the 'sirs' part to suggest that those ears weren't just there to look pretty.

Clint swore under his breath. "No way. No goddamn way."

"Feeling the cold?" said Natasha, whose sleeveless dress seemed specifically chosen to mock him.

"I was in Myanmar three days ago. Now I'm in freaking Alaska."

Tony couldn't say anything. His first order of business had been to dig out a sweater. "What's an international assassin doing in Myanmar?"

Clint looked at him. "What do you think an international assassin was doing in Myanmar?" Tony broke eye contact, and Clint smiled for the first time since they arrived. "No, I was on vacation. Weird stuff always happens to me when I'm on vacation." The smile hung for an instant, then vanished like it was never there.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me in the least." said Tony. Edurik turned them around yet another corner, and, as the décor grew steadily even more elaborate, Tony suspected they were getting into the royal family's living quarters. He ran his hand over one of the tapestries - it was more richly colored than he had imagined, and felt soft despite the age it must have been. There were times when it was difficult to comprehend just how old Thor's people were. At the sound of a soft cough from Edurik he pulled his hand away. Buzzkill.

The next corridor was significantly wider, with windows onto a courtyard running the length of one side. At the far end a pair of guards in golden armor stood at attention on either side of yet another imposing door. Tony was starting to grow bored of them; there was only so much magnificent architecture you could see in one day before it all started to blur together. This time, it did not swing open as they came to a halt outside it.

"Please wait here." said Edurik, stepping forward without even acknowledging the guards. He raised his hand and rapped twice on the door, then took a step back.

"Enter!" came Thor's voice from the other side, and Tony made to move forward when Edurik raised his hand.

"Not you." he said, and made his way in as the guards swung open one of the doors. Tony barely caught a glimpse of the other side before it swung closed again, but he had spotted what looked like a dinner table. This day had just become a lot better. If he listened closely he could hear muffled voices; he felt the temptation to put his ear to the wall, but had the feeling the guards would not appreciate it. From what little he could make out Edurik was introducing them, after paying some obsequious respect. The door opened again, and Edurik emerged once more. He stepped to one side, beckoning them in.

"In you go. Remember you are in the presence of royalty; you might be companionable with the prince, but here you are to be on your best behavior Bow to them from the waist - lady Romanoff may curtsey - and address the king and queen as 'your majesty', and the prince as 'your highness'. Only refer to them by name if granted permission. Do not show them your back, walk backwards if you must. Disrespect will not be tolerated." he said.

Tony rolled his eyes. Steve - of course it was Steve - nodded his acknowledgment "All right, will do. Thanks, mister Aerreson." he said, and by way of reply Edurik simply bowed from the waist and gestured to the doors, then hurried off somewhere to do whatever else royal dogsbodies did. The guards, impassive as ever behind the long nosepieces of their helmets, swung open the doors in near-perfect unison, to reveal the dining room of which Tony had caught just a glimpse before.

The table was shorter than he would have imagined it to be, though it was laid out with all the opulence he had come to expect; elaborate cutlery, tall-stemmed gold and crystal goblets - goblets! They really used goblets! - and a handsome tablecloth that might as well have been woven out of gold. In front of it all stood Thor, his back straight and hands folded behind him. He smiled broadly as they entered, which was better than could be said for the man on his left, who Tony assumed was Thor's dad. One stern eye peered down at them despite the fact that at least Steve stood taller than him, perfectly offsetting a face that looked like he had frowned into the wind as a child and become stuck that way. Even the gold eyepatch that appeared to be riveted to his face somehow managed to look disapproving.

Somewhat less fearsome was the lady at his other side, her expression dignified rather than stern. Deep lines ran through her face, giving her a tired, sad look to her. She smiled a little as they entered, more a polite courtesy than anything else. Out of the corner of his eye Tony spotted Steve doing that bowing-from-the-waist-thing Edurik had mentioned and, with no other real idea of how to approach royalty, Tony tried it too. He folded from the hips, rocking forward perhaps a little too far, then straightening. Bruce, Clint and Natasha followed suit - Clint and Natasha somehow pulled it off in perfect time - and the group stood there and looked at their hosts, as though waiting for marks out of ten.

Thor just laughed, and the lady who was presumably his mother smiled a little more sincerely. Tony just about caught a softening of Thor's dad's expression, but it was difficult to tell. He let the moment hang for a little longer than was strictly necessary before finally addressing them. "Well met, Avengers. I am Odin, son of Bor, son of Buri, king of Asgard and all her vassals. This," he gestured to the lady beside him, "is my wife, Queen Frigga, daughter of Fjorgynn, son of Rekki. I bid you welcome to my hall." He had a certain timbre about his voice that left no doubt in anyone's mind that he was in charge; his was not a voice to be argued with.

Tony, in his eternal irreverence, cared little. "Yeah, nice to meet you too. Your majesty. Thanks." He could hear the quick inhalations of breath to either side that usually meant he had just said something outrageous, but continued on regardless. "Listen, we've just walked all the way from wherever we just came from, any chance we could sit down?"

Thor shared a faintly amused glance with his mother, while Odin's single eyebrow rose just a fraction. "Very well," said the king, stepping aside and ushering his family along with, "you may take your seats."

"Thanks, boss. Can I call you boss?" Tony could feel the weight of Steve's glare on the back of his neck as he claimed the chair at the far end, and couldn't hold back a smile. Odin chose to ignore his comment, simply waiting for the team to all be seated. Thor and Frigga sat down at either side of the head of the table, and Odin sat last. A servant darted away through yet another door - Tony hadn't even noticed her until she moved. The royal family paid her no attention, instead focusing on their guests.

"I hope your journey here went smoothly." said Frigga, speaking for the first time in a voice that matched her face; dignified, but a little sad.

Steve responded quickly, denying Tony another chance to make a fool of himself. "It was certainly interesting, your majesty."

Frigga chuckled, and even Odin allowed himself a tiny smile. "Forgive us," she said, "I'm sure you won't believe it, but Sleipnir is probably the most subtle means of transport currently available to us."

Natasha leaned forward, voicing the question on everybody's lips. "What are the less subtle ones?"

"Skyships." said Thor.

"Skyships? You mean like dirigibles? We've got a couple of those, don't see much use these days though. Not since we learned not to fill giant balloons with hydrogen. We learned that in a big way." said Tony, raising his eyebrows.

Thor raised his eyebrows right back. "No, I mean skyships, dragonships. Flying, interplanetary ships. I'm reasonably certain you don't have any of those." That lazy grin of his widened at the glances shared between the team that confirmed his suspicions.

Even Clint, who had done such a good job of blending into the background so far, couldn't help but comment. "You have spaceships?"

"Of a sort, yes. They're not as quick or efficient as traveling via the Bifrost, but they're really the only way to transport large quantities of cargo. That, and the Bifrost is... currently unavailable." Thor made a dismissive gesture with his shoulders, while Odin and Frigga looked at Clint properly for the first time. This time Odin's sternness did fall away, if only for a moment, as he acknowledged Clint's existence. Clint looked away; he had always made it clear he didn't want sympathy.

Steve caught the moment before it could grow too awkward for Clint to bear. "Man, I still can't get my head round this. How many other planets do you have access to?"

Odin took Steve's cue, turning his attention from the withdrawing Clint. "Beyond Asgard and Midgard - your world, I believe you call it 'Earth' now, after its custodian I presume - there are seven realms, on six confirmed worlds. Has Thor not discussed this with you?" he said, briefly looking sidelong at his son.

Bruce shook his head. "Last time we met, we were... a little busy."

"Ah. Of course. My apologies," said Odin, his brow wrinkling. "Of the nine realms, there are five confirmed planets, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Jotunnheim, Midgard and Ginnunga, which is tidally locked and so functionally two separate realms, Niflheim and Muspelheim; a moon, Svartalfheim; a celestial plane, Asgard; and an underground realm, Nidavellir, the surface of which we have yet to be able to locate." His voice took on the tone of a scholar who had repeated these facts many a time, but the whole team listened.

Clint had leaned forward again, and Tony caught his eye. The glance lasted for only a fraction of a second, but they both knew what it meant. Before anything more could be said, though, a small bell tinkled somewhere in the room. All thoughts of conversation halted as one of the far doors opened and the smell of lunch wafted in. A crew of servants entered, laden with more dishes than people at the table. Empty plates - fine pewter, if Tony's eye was right - were set in front of each of the assembled diners, while huge platters of what looked and smelt like the local seafood were placed in the center of the table. Having divested themselves of their cargo the servants bowed, but remained off to the side armed with tongs and knives. Everyone waited as Odin looked over the proffered dishes with that perpetually disapproving eye.

He gave a gentle nod, and gestured to one of the platters near Tony. Almost at once the closest servant had it on the king's plate, while Thor and Frigga gave their own orders. With the royalty suitably plated-up and protocol established, the table descended into a frenzy of questions. "What's that?" "What's this?" "What's that smell?" "Can I have two of those?" "Do you have any mustard?" "Are you sure this isn't poisonous?" The servants made a game attempt to keep up, and by the end of service even Odin couldn't keep a little smile from his lips.

Tony looked around at the rest of the team's plates, examining everyone else's meals. As usual, he had the least food on his plate; Steve and Bruce had their ridiculous metabolisms, while Clint and Natasha had whatever life traumas that had made them frighteningly possessive of food. The lobster had been far larger than Tony was sure lobsters ought to be, and the description the servants gave - 'grilled in fine whale fat, with a sauce of prawns, anchovies, brandy and Fjordlund cheese, rolled in grated witchbark and breadcrumbs' - sounded so liable to cause an immediate heart attack he had to try it. He peered down at what couldn't even be an eighth of the total lobster, but that still dwarfed the garnish of some variety of lettuce, and most of his plate. He reached for the cutlery, noting the absence of forks as Thor and his family ate straight from their knives, and dug in.

The lobster didn't stand a chance. Once finished, Tony leaned back into his chair with a stomach full of the sea, if the sea were fantastically cooked and had hints of cheese and liquor. Conversation had largely drawn to a halt, the team having never been good at talking during meals, despite the few attempts of Thor and his parents. As the meal wore down the servants reappeared from wherever these servants vanished to, relieving the table of plates and cutlery and replacing them with small platters of cheese, fruits and little wafer things. Odin tried once again to stimulate conversation, though for once he sounded perhaps a little reticent.

"The trial is tentatively due to commence in four days, but practically it will begin once the representatives of the other realms are gathered here. You were the first to arrive, but the Skithblathnir and the Dhruurlaugaer should be here by tomorrow evening with the elves, frost giants and vanir, while the Morggangaer, with the flame giants, ought to arrive within three days. The dwarves should arrive from the tunnels within a day or two as well."

"Ought being the operative word?" asked Natasha, having polished off most of the cheeses within arm's reach and now equipped to talk without sending crumbs over their royal hosts.

Odin nodded. "Indeed. We shall manage if they are delayed, though; you shall simply have more time to enjoy Asgard. Have you seen much of the city?" There was a tiny hint of a smile in his eye, if not on his lips. His words came easier as he brought the topic away from the upcoming trial.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think any of us have even been outside our suites yet. I don't trust myself not to get horribly, horribly lost."

Frigga hid a small, polite chuckle behind her hand. "I'm sure Thor can find the time to show you the sights and sounds." She gave her son a gently pointed look, and he grinned in return.

"About the trial," said Clint, and Thor's grin fell away, "Thor mentioned some... circumstances. Could you elaborate?"

Odin shut his eye for a moment as the rest of the table looked at him in expectation. He swallowed a breath. "Once we have dined, I shall show you." he said at length, and Clint rolled his eyes. "I am sorry."

The second course came and went in relative silence, even the royals now hesitant to strike up conversation. The team ate quickly, too quickly to really enjoy what was probably the pinnacle of Asgardian cooking, or to consider the fact that they were eating the local equivalent of an animal that had been extinct on Earth for at least ten thousand years. Once the servants had cleared the table again, all eyes fell on Odin. After yet another deliberate pause - it seemed the king of Asgard made a point of doing everything in his own time - he got to his feet, followed closely by Frigga and Thor. He looked back to the team, and said, "Follow me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be editted sometime in the future (I'll mention it in the notes for the next chapter if I do), but I'm currently away from home and I'm trying to set myself a fortnightly update schedule. I may be unable to get the next chapter up in two weeks' time, but it'll arrive by three weeks at the latest. If not, you are all free to chivvy me about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning, this chapter does have a description of starvation. Very mild, as such things go, but if you wanted a heads-up, that was it.

Once again the team made their way through the palace, walking in an intense silence. Nobody's eyes met. Odin led the group downwards, past slowly intensifying guard patrols, who bowed to their royalty but watched the rest of the team with caution. As they advanced the architecture grew more workaday - inasmuch as the palace was capable - as official types bustled about, and Tony suspected this was where much of the actual administration was done. After yet more twists and turns they stopped in front of a massive iron door, marked with symbols, runes and knotwork even more intricate than anything the palace had offered so far. Standing in front of it, heavily armored and holding a spear almost half her height again, was a tall, severe-looking woman with a heavily scarred face. At her side lay a pair of wolves, who leaped to their feet and bounded towards Odin at the sound of his approach, tails wagging and tongues lolling. The king reached down to rumple their ears, but said nothing as he kept walking towards the door-guard. She bowed as he stopped in front of her.

"Nothing has changed, my king." she said, and gestured to Tony and the others. "Are these the humans you called upon?"

Odin nodded. "Indeed. They wish to see him."

The guard turned to face the door, took a ring of keys from her belt, and began to unlock each of the nine locks in turn. Once all the locks engaged, she pressed her hand against it, leaned hard, and the door swung open with an unpleasant scraping sound. For the first time since they left the dining hall the team exchanged glances, some curious, most concerned. The wolves pricked up their ears and darted towards the opening, stopping just before going through to look back at Odin, softly whining as they looked between him and the staircase beyond.

"Thank you, Syn." said Odin, and, with the wolves close at his heels, made his way onto the stairs. He beckoned for the rest of them to follow. Clint and Bruce both hesitated a moment, as did Frigga, but Tony suspected that was for a different reason. Tony gripped the railing tight, taking the steep, spiraling steps as cautiously as he could with three people behind him. The place was surprisingly well-lit for what was presumably a dungeon, with lanterns at every turn of the staircase illuminating almost as much as had there been windows.

Mercifully, Steve broke the silence that had been pressing on Tony's skull the entire journey. "Who was that?" he asked, tilting his head to gesture back to the door but not risking letting go of the railing.

"Syn Karkrdaughter," said Odin, not looking back to him. "She is my doorward, the chief guardian of my house and holdings."

“And she's guarding Loki now?” said Steve.

“Indeed. I trust no-one else in this matter.” Odin replied, a little too ominously for Tony's liking.

The wolves reached the bottom of the staircase first, and danced in circles waiting for the rest of the group to join them, still whining with anticipation. Odin shushed them as he stepped onto flat ground, and led them onwards through yet another door, smaller and made of wood but just as ornately decorated as the one upstairs. Lines of iron and silver were inlaid into it, but not depicting any recognizable shape or story. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony spotted Thor's hair sparking briefly as they went through, as did Odin's (not as much) and Frigga's (significantly more). He looked down at the arc reactor in his chest, holding his breath, but no short-circuit or mechanical failure manifested itself. He kept walking.

One last door stood in front of them, and though Odin grasped the handle, he hesitated. "Are you sure you wish to see him?"

"Yes." said Clint, his hands balling into fists. Odin saw it, but said nothing, instead just turning the handle and pushing open the door. On the other side was a cage formed of scintillating energy, far enough back from the door to allow all eight of them to stand in front of it. Inside, on the floor, sat Loki.

He didn't acknowledge their presence; apart from the shallow rising of his chest, he didn't even move. His hair had grown long and wild, and the simple shirt he wore hung far too loose. The hint of bone-thin ankle that could be seen past his pants suggested he hadn't moved in a very long time. The books on the small table in the corner lay neatly stacked, as though they hadn't been touched since being placed there, and the sheets on the bed were immaculate except for their fine covering of dust.

Clint held his breath, and though nobody made eye contact with him, Tony was reasonably certain everybody was keeping him in their peripheral vision. He remained silent, as did everybody else, until Odin spoke.

In a low, neutral tone, he said, "Loki."

Loki didn't stir.

Odin sighed. "He has been like this almost since he returned here."

"So he pretends to be catatonic, and you postpone the trial?" snapped Clint, turning to Odin with fierce eyes.

Frigga clasped her hands in front of her. "He hasn't moved, he hasn't spoken, he hasn't eaten, he hasn't drunk, he hasn't slept. He is dying."

Clint shook his head. "He's killing himself."

"He doesn't even respond to pain! Barton, I know he did terribly by you, and I would never ask you to forgive him, but the fact that he is a criminal doesn't mean there isn't something wrong."

Only a mother could make that sound so reasonable, Tony thought. Clint bit his lip and looked away, clearly thinking better of whatever he had wanted to say. The wolves skittered about their feet with short, high-pitched yelps, jumping at the barrier but stopping just before their noses touched it. One of them, the one with the irregular patches of white fur, raised a paw as though he intended to scratch at the cage, but held back. Thor either didn't notice them or couldn't, his attention fixed on the bedraggled mess in front of them. It was almost an insult, seeing the man who had sent Tony through a window just sitting there like a sack of bones.

"So what happens to him now?" asked Steve in a calculatedly level voice.

"That is what the trial will establish. We know what he has done; the trial is to decide what is to be done with him." said Odin.

The answer seemed to mollify Clint; his shoulders lowered a fraction, though neither his fists nor his jaw unclenched. The atmosphere grew uncomfortably voyeuristic, staring at a man in a cage who might as well have been a corpse but for his breathing and blinking. Tony made sidelong glances at the king and queen, as did Steve and Natasha, waiting for them to finish whatever thoughts they were thinking. Odin's face had reverted to its natural state of disapproval, looking at Loki with one hard, cold eye. Frigga's expression was softer, more desperate, begging Loki with her gaze to look back. He didn't, of course. Why ruin the masquerade?

The wolves grew quieter, only whimpering occasionally now. Thor turned away, eyes closed and brow furrowed. "Come." he said. "We'll achieve nothing by staying here."

Odin nodded and made his way out, with Clint not far behind. One by one the team took their last looks at the fallen prince before turning to leave, until only Frigga remained. She lingered a moment, then spoke to the wolves still standing at her feet. "Freki, Geri, off you go." She tapped the nearest one, the one without the white patches, on the hip, sending him trotting towards the leaving group.

"You're staying?" asked Thor, looking back over his shoulder at his mother.

"Only a little while."

Thor gave a small sigh, and began to lead the team back up the stairs.

***

The journey back was just as quiet as the journey there. The king and queen handed the team off to Thor to guide them back to their suites, and even he left almost as soon as they found their keys again. Tony tried to wrestle his whirling thoughts into quietness as he fought with the lock; physically, Loki was on death's doorstep. Why would anyone with even a hint of self-preservation instinct let themselves get that ill? And yet, he was Loki, known to the Vikings as a master of deceit, the prince of lies. Everything Tony knew about the man - which, admittedly, wasn't much - suggested that this was a carefully concocted deception. And yet...

The key engaged, and he pushed open the door. He shut it behind him and leaned back against it, until JARVIS spoke. "Welcome back, sir. Is something the matter?"

Tony wiped his hands on his pants, having just noticed that his palms were sweating. "We saw Loki."

"Ah."

Tony rolled his shoulders and made his way over to the bed. He flopped down onto the mattress, face first, and despite stretching his arms as far as they could go he still couldn't reach the edges of the bed. Rolling over onto his front, not even taking his boots off, he began to catch JARVIS up on what had occurred. Once he had finished, JARVIS remained silent for a few moments, and Tony twisted himself to look down at him, hoping he hadn't gone and crashed, before JARVIS spoke again.

"How are the others?" he asked, his carefully programmed neutral tone somehow managing to convey a hint of concern.

Tony negotiated himself back into a more comfortable position. "As well as they can be, given the circumstances. Clint's not happy, hell, nobody's happy, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been. At least Loki kept quiet the entire time."

"A small mercy."

The conversation lingered for a little longer, but Tony found himself with increasingly little to say on the matter. After changing out of his formal gear he contented himself with one of the books he'd brought along for precisely this sort of situation, until even that bored him. Looking out of the huge back window he saw the sun still hung high in the sky - wait a minute, if Asgard was flat, how was the sun moving through the sky? Tony pondered this for a while, before deciding that this place was far too weird to obey such trivial things as the laws of physics. Those floating cuboids he'd seen that morning should have tipped him off, he thought.

Pulling himself up from his spot of leaning on the windowsill, Tony headed back towards the door. "I'm gonna go bug somebody," he told JARVIS, "I'm going crazy in here."

"Very well, sir."

He made sure his key was firmly in his pocket, then stepped out into the antechamber. Nobody was taking advantage of their communal space yet, but Tony mentally claimed one of the not-chaises-longues for himself anyway. He strolled over to the door two rooms down from his own, and rapped on it three times in the knock the whole team knew was his. Somebody swore inside, and after a moment that Tony assumed was spent pulling on pants, Clint opened the door. He looked even more surly than usual, which was Tony's cue to be obnoxiously chipper.

"You wanna go do something dumb?" said Tony. Clint looked like he needed a distraction, something Tony was always willing to provide.

Clint fixed him with an uncomfortable stare, and Tony wondered if he was about to get ripped into, before Clint shrugged. "Yeah, all right."

Tony grinned; there were days when Clint was the best playmate in the world, and days when he would rip your arms off for suggesting he ever stoop to something so undignified. At least Loki hadn't ruined Clint's mood enough to change his day from the former to the latter.

Clint grabbed his jacket from the coat-hook by the door, and debated zipping it up before deciding to leave it open. "You got any idea where the port is in this city?" Clearly he remembered the glance he and Tony had shared at the dinner table.

"Not a clue. Let's go find out."

The first hurdle was getting out of the palace. Between them, Tony and Clint tried to reconstruct their journey from the entrance hall, comparing mental maps and half-remembered landmarks. Twice they managed to get chased out of private areas, and only when a bemused servant, who had seen them pass him on three separate occasions, gave them directions did they actually emerge into the mid-afternoon sun.

From the top of the enormous stairs they looked out over the city, and beyond to where the sea met the open void. Clint hopped up onto the plinth bearing one of the massive statues, as though being just slightly higher might improve his view even further. Tony tried to memorize the lay of the land below them, picking out any specific buildings that they might be able to navigate by before resigning himself to the fact that they were inevitably going to get horribly, horribly lost.

"Okay, if I were flying a ship, where would I leave it?" said Tony, mostly to himself.

Clint peered around, trying to work out which of the various districts might be a port. "It'd be somewhere high, I guess, big enough to take them into dry-dock. Any other ship I'd say we just head down to the shoreline, but..."

"Screw it, we're not finding anything standing around here. Let's get lost."

Clint nodded, and jumped down beside him. Tony chose a direction at random and began climbing down the steps, two at a time. The gardens around the palace were meticulously kept, with hedges arranged in yet more of those elaborate knotwork patterns, and plants Tony didn't recognize drenching the grounds in color Like everywhere else, the gardens were abuzz with activity, with gardeners pruning, weeding, watering, trimming or mulching something or other every few yards. At the far end, the gardens gave way to a heavy iron fence, taller than Tony if Tony was standing on Steve's shoulders. The pair of them strolled out through the front gate, the guards looking at them with a little concern but saying nothing as they officially began their adventure.

From the looks of the swanky town houses rising up above them, they were on the Asgardian equivalent of Park Avenue. Tony supposed you'd have to be rich to call royalty your neighbors People, horses and carriages made their way up and down the handsomely cobbled road, which was surprisingly clean given the number of horses Tony was seeing. Even Clint couldn't help but let his mouth hang open tourist-wise at the people and buildings. The houses were solid white, and the lack of visible brickwork made Tony suspect they were either made of the local equivalent of adobe, or they were very, very well plastered. Their roofs seemed to be what set each building apart; this building had eggshell blue tiles, that one had pearly white, the other had a steeper slope, the next had more chimneys, each one deviating just enough to be individual without breaking the impression that they all belonged next to one another.

As Tony and Clint gawked, so too did the locals. Whispers and furtive glances, and occasionally curious onlookers, followed them down the street. They tried to be subtle about it, of course, but when the pair stopped and made a show of looking at some particular piece of architecture, their little entourage stopped as well. Two shabby foreigners strolling through the rich district seemed to be unusual enough to cause a stir.

"Are those the Midgardians the king invited?"

"Hist - they'll hear you!"

Clint looked sidelong at Tony through his sunglasses, and smirked. Tony smirked back, and they turned off into the next road.

The story was much the same for the rest of the district, each new road a little less opulent as they drew further away from the palace. The people, however, were no less curious; in fact, more and more eyes fell upon them as the news spread. People looked out at them from their windows, hiding away again when Tony laughed and waved.

"D'you think any of them are actually gonna talk to us?" he asked Clint as yet another stranger pretended she hadn't been looking at them.

Clint shrugged. "Nah. They're all too polite, don't want to make a fuss."

The road began to slope downhill, growing a little narrower. Homes gave way to stores and offices, less pretentious and more practical. The clothes of the locals changed similarly, and though there was still plenty of fine silk and fussy embroidery to be found, there was a growing array of simple tunics, pants and dresses. They still had no idea where they were going, but for now they were content to wander.

Tony caught himself looking wistfully into the window of a bakery, until he remembered that he was somewhat short on local money. Maybe he could put it on Thor's tab...? Clint was already moving on, and Tony pulled himself away from the baked goods to jog after him.

Looking at the signs on the stores, there were as many business accountants and lawyers' offices as there were cobblers and carpenters, and Tony had been a little disappointed to see that the pharmacies did not call themselves 'apothecaries'. He supposed it was to be expected; apart from their stubborn insistence on riding horses and close-combat warfare, he had figured Asgard was similar to, if not beyond, Earth in terms of technology, and their culture would have adapted just like Earth's had. Still, he couldn't stave off the little pang of disappointment that there was nobody standing in the middle of the street with a bell, shouting 'oyez, oyez!'.

On the other hand, there were just as many children running loose as he would expect in a Viking settlement. A handful of them ran up to them, eyes wide as they jostled to get a look at the strange people in strange clothes wandering around like tourists. "Sirs! Sirs!" said one, a tall, lanky boy who was probably the ringleader. "Sirs, where are you from, sirs?"

"You're from Midgard, aren't you?" piped another, one of the smaller girls with a gap in her front teeth and who couldn't be older than six or seven.

Clint took a step back, and Tony took his cue. "Yeah, we're from Earth. I guess you don't get many humans 'round here, huh?"

The children's mouths gaped open. "You're humans? You're really humans?" asked yet another of them, and they shuffled forward as one. The little gang laughed, and Clint yanked his arm away as one of them tried to grab him.

"I did say that, yes." said Tony, moving aside slightly as Clint closed the distance between them.

The ringleader looked up at him, and Tony couldn't tell what he was thinking. "How old are you, sirs?" the kid asked, dropping in 'sirs' like some verbal tic.

"I'm forty-three. He's forty..." Tony looked at Clint.

"Two. I'm forty-two." said Clint, speaking to Tony rather than their audience.

The children broke out into riotous laughter, and the little gap-toothed girl chimed in again. "I'm a hundred and six!"

"I'm three hundred and eighteen!"

"I'm two hundred and seventy-four!"

They descended into a barrage of announcing their respective ages, not one less than a century old. The youngest predated the First World War; the oldest, who by rights shouldn't have been more than twelve, predated the East India Company. Like so many other things about this world, it shouldn't have surprised Tony, but no matter how he tried he couldn't keep the astonishment from his face, much to the children's amusement. Clint had better luck, keeping his expression impassive past his sunglasses as he still tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the kids. Eventually they tired of them, and almost as a pack they darted off again, crowing with laughter as they went. Several less-than-subtle eavesdroppers also began to shuffle away, and Tony and Clint were left standing on the sidewalk looking at each other in bemusement.

Clint's eyebrows knitted. "That was... surreal."

"That's one word for it," said Tony, watching as the children regaled another small group with their tale, "how old is Thor, anyway?"

"I'm not sure I want to know."

***

The sea soon came into view as they put more distance between themselves and the palace, seagulls and pigeons patrolling the cobbled streets in equal number. No more little gangs accosted them; Clint, with his shoulders practically up around his ears, was definitely giving off the 'do not approach' vibes. The pair of them continued to have no idea where they were going, safe in the knowledge that the summer evening was a long way off yet. There were a few handy signposts, mostly pointing to libraries, museums, universities and the like, but it was the all-pervading smell of seafood that told them they were entering the fishing district.

Fancy carriages gave way to practical carts, pulled by every stripe of horse and pony. Some even went further than that, using not just oxen or donkeys but giant, hairy dogs, large reptiles with loose skin hanging in folds around every joint, or what looked like small domesticated rhinos. Clint was checking a street sign when Tony caught sight of the most unusual steed yet.

"Clint! Clint!" he hissed, elbowing him in the ribs and gesturing into the bustle of people on the intersection ahead. "F.O.U.S.!"

Clint just looked at him, his mind taking a moment to process what Tony was trying to say. "Feline of unusual size..?"

Tony nodded furiously, and past the shuffling crowd Clint saw what he had been pointing at. Two alarmingly large and unspeakably hairy cats made their lazy way down the road, one being ridden, the other being led beside the first. Those carts which could moved aside for them, their rider obviously commanding some sort of respect from the look of the rich blue, gold-trimmed riding coat and the large sword at her waist. Without so much as asking, Tony was off jogging after them. Clint sighed, shook his head, and went after him to make sure he didn't make too great a fool of himself with yet another member of the local aristocracy.

They slowed to a halt alongside the cats, which had seemed smaller when they weren't standing right next to them. The one being led turned to sniff at them, its large, black nose looming until the rider clicked her tongue. "Come on, Stal, leave them." she said, before doing a double take. She peered down at them, a lopsided smile playing on her face. "Ah - Thor's guests, I take it?"

"What gave it away?" asked Tony.

"Many things," said the cat lady, "foremost among them being that I saw you at the palace this morning." She reached a hand down to each of them in turn, shaking firmly as they walked and leaving them both with cat hair on their palms. "Freya Njorddaughter, Lady Marshal of the Valkyries."

"Tony Stark," said Tony, "genius engineer and part-time savior of Earth."

"I've heard much of you." she said, turning her attention to Clint.

"Clint Barton." he said, leaving off the titles. Perhaps introducing oneself as a professional assassin wasn't the best way to endear oneself.

Freya dipped her head to them both, her gaze lingering on Clint maybe a little too long. "It is an honor."

"Yeah, yeah, likewise." Tony nodded. "So where are you headed?"

Freya motioned with one hand, keeping the other on the reins. "The skyport. My brother's ship should be coming in soon, and I have agreed to meet him there. And yourselves? Are you just taking in the sights and sounds, or do you actually have somewhere to go?" From the tone of her voice, she lent little credence to the second option.

Tony grinned, and even Clint smiled a little. "We just so happen to be going your way." said Tony.

"Of course." said Freya, her tone measured and low as though she didn't quite believe him. "Walk with me."

"Sure thing." Tony replied, he and Clint falling into step beside the giant cats. "Clint here wanted to check out the ships." he continued, and Clint shot a look at him which he blithely ignored. "We've been fairly reliably informed your ships can fly."

Freya chuckled. "Has humanity still not taken to the skies?"

"We have," said Clint, "but probably not in the way you have."

Freya looked down at them, for the first time seeming genuinely curious. "Do tell."

With that, Tony and Clint spent another surreal ten minutes on another world, walking beside a pair of riding-cats, talking to a real-life Valkyrie about aeronautics and the history of flight. Tony rambled on to his heart's content about ornithopter design, recent advances in jet fuel, the development of supersonic travel, anything that came to mind, while Clint simply smiled and nodded as he usually did when Tony put on his engineering hat. Freya offered little to the conversation, more interested in what Tony had to say than actually sharing anything she knew.

Freya led them through the curving city streets with far more purpose than they had managed on their own. Eventually, Tony simply had to broach the topic that had been bothering him the entire time.

"Could we ride your cat?"

"Excuse me?" said Freya, narrowing her eyes down at him.

"You've got two cats, and you're only riding one of them. Can we ride the spare?" Tony could see Clint trying to look disapproving at him, and failing.

"... How much experience do you have riding saddle-cats?"

"Absolutely none."

"Then the answer is no."

Tony pouted and made an unhappy noise. "Please?"

"No."

"Ple-"

"No."

Even Clint looked a tiny bit disappointed.

***

The city grew increasingly proletarian as they walked. Shipwrights and fishmongers now lined the streets, tall, narrow buildings that looked like their owners lived in the storeys above the shop floor. Signs hung on swinging brackets, announcing things like 'Established 18647 Buri' or 'Honored Suppliers to the House of Bjartr Folgornson'. Freya clearly knew where she was going, and they probably covered more ground following her than they did in the past hour of milling about aimlessly.

A tall, broad building loomed over the rest of the district, made of strong white granite and lined with platforms and walkways. People clambered around on the outside of the building along bridges and ladders that would have given an OSHA inspector a heart attack, apparently not caring about the unpleasant drop. Wooden boats hung suspended from metal frames like lifeboat launchers some thirty feet up, making Tony crane his neck to see them. Freya urged the cats on as they approached, and Tony and Clint found themselves having to lengthen their strides to keep pace. One of the workers spotted them as they approached, brushed his windswept hair into something approaching presentability, and hopped down from his perch on an empty cart to meet them.

"The _Skithblathnir_ 's not far out, milady." he said, bowing to Freya. "She made contact about fifteen minutes ago, should be here within twenty minutes." He took the cats' reins, and Freya swung down from the saddle in that one fluid motion Thor had insisted upon. She patted them both on the side, and nodded as the docker led them away, to the sound of faint meowing as the darker one she had been riding looked back at her. Up above, the workers began to haul thick, heavy ropes from their precarious footholds, massive wooden doors screeching open inch by inch. Inside was dark, and from his place far below Tony couldn't make out what lay beyond.

He hadn't gone two steps when the shrieking of wood in metal runners gave way to a terrified scream. Someone had slipped - he plummeted downwards for a fragment of a second, unable to cling onto the rope he had been holding, and Tony felt his heart stop. It took less than a single stroke of his heart for the man to come to a stop, decelerating mid-air as he hit a layer of glittering light, invisible until he had touched it. It flexed and stretched out beneath his weight, slowing him down and leaving him hanging in an undignified heap about ten feet off the ground. Tony exhaled noisily, as did Clint. Freya just looked at them like they were mad.

"You all right, Jannik?" called one of the workers above, sounding entirely too nonchalant about the whole affair.

The man pulled himself upright, still suspended in his magical safety hammock. "Yes, I'm fine. Toss me a rope, will you?" The man above complied, and without wasting a second Jannik was shimmying back up.

"Right," muttered Tony, possibly to Clint. "Why bother with railings and harnesses when you can just magic up your workplace safety?" The doors above were screeching again, and Freya led them inside.

The human-sized entry to the dock (or Asgardian-sized, as doors in Asgard were a little taller than Tony and Clint were accustomed to) was just as utilitarian as the rest of the place, hiding away the grandeur of almost a dozen tall-ships, housed row by row on ropes nowhere near large or numerous enough to support their weight alone. Yet again, Tony smiled. The sails and masts had been taken down, but he could see where they would attach, along with similar ports on the sides and the bottom. At the prow of each one was some sort of handsome wood carving, of horses, or women, or birds or, by far the most common, dragons. The horned, serpentine beasts, some with wooden fire bursting from their jaws, looked out unseeing at the bare walls and carefully-placed columns, the walkways between ships and the tiny skiffs that would bear passengers and cargo to the enormous vessels. Above the first row floated - floated - another row, and below the first an empty space fell away, where more well-worn ships were being pored over by shipwrights and carpenters.

"They're... just ships." said Clint, sounding astonished at his own words.

"What else did you expect?" asked Freya, leaning on the railing over the edge of the repair bay as the doors they'd seen being opened poured a growing beam of sunlight into the building.

Clint shook his head. "I figured you'd at least use metal."

"Why? Wood works perfectly well."

Tony found himself pondering the rationale of making a functional interplanetary vessel out of wood, but he assumed the answer would just be 'magic' so he kept it to himself.

Clint began to wander along the walkways, closely followed by Tony, who knew next to nothing about shipbuilding but was happy to throw around words like 'clinker-built' and 'capstan' as though he had any idea what they meant. Freya remained where she leaned, peering out at the wide archway that would admit the _Skithblathnir_ when she arrived from wherever she had come, bearing whoever she had brought.

Even up close, but for their odd mast placement and the fact that they were floating, the ships could have sailed out of any European port in the fifteenth century and only been noticed for their size and handsomeness. Nobody would have suspected that they could put NASA to shame. Clint leaned out to touch one of them; when Tony tried, it he noticed the wood was hard and dense, like ebony, despite looking more like rowan. These things were built to last.

Their childlike wonder was interrupted when the workers outside began to yell. "Here she is!" cried one, and the dockers inside doubled their pace of tying off ropes, readying the bay and double-checking the doors were secured. The light from the bay doors vanished, and high above them the shape of a carved dragon peeked into the building. Dock-hands stood ready on the walkways on either side, guiding her in with hand signals as though they were on an airstrip. The rest of the ship came in one push at a time, the great wing-like sails at her sides beating cautiously as she eased in through the doors. Tiny adjustments to the sail on the keel turned her this way or that, according to the signals and shouted instructions of the people on the walkways.

It was an agonizing procedure. The walkways and other ships on either side of the open bay left little room for error, and the _Skithblathnir_ \- Tony could see the name painted in swirling script on the hull - was not narrow. As more and more of her made its way inside she was tied off, the ropes tensing against the weight as everyone tried to keep her on course. With one last heave of her wing-sails, she was in, to a cheer from the workers. The screeching started up again as the doors behind the ship were closed, and the last of the lines were put in place to secure her. Without missing a beat the sailors began taking down the sails, making the _Skithblathnir_ look like all the other ships in the dock.

The doors hammered closed, and then the only sounds were the calls of workers and sailors, and the footsteps of people climbing the stairs to meet the ship. Tony saw Clint hesitate, and decided to lead the way. Several other people had arrived to meet the _Skithblathnir_ , most of them well-dressed like the ones back at the palace. Tony caught sight of a familiar pair of ears.

"Ed! Hey! Hey, Ed!" he waved, and once again Edurik's ears noticed him before the rest of his face did. He looked away from Freya, who had taken up walking beside him in perfect military step, and Tony couldn't quite make out whether his expression fell.

In the echoing dry dock, his whisper to Freya was audible to all. "What are they doing here?"

"They're with me." replied Freya, not bothering to whisper.

"Yes, but what are they doing here?"

"We're having an adventure!" Tony called down to him. Edurik flattened his ears.

Behind them, one of the little skiffs cast off and began lazily flying over to begin offloading. On the ship, yet more well-dressed types emerged onto the deck, their silks and velvets stark against the cottons of the sailors. Some of them were those tall, slender people with elfish ears and skin like oil slicks; others looked similar, perhaps a little taller and broader on average, but with skin like mother-of-pearl, the color of weathered pine that flashed pink, green and blue when the light caught it just right. Tony noticed the two peoples did not stand close to one another.

Edurik hurried along the walkway, looking out to where one of his own people leaned over the ship's rail as soon as he caught sight of him. They called out to each other across the gap as they waited for the passengers to board the skiff, and for the first time Tony and Clint saw a genuine smile on Edurik's face. Freya waited a little way back from the edge, not making a show of looking for anybody except for the occasional glance up at the wheelhouse.

The gathered company winced collectively as another bay door began to screech open and a second beam of light illuminated the dock. The magpie-elves, as Tony had begun to think of them, seemed more averse to the sudden light than anyone else; even Edurik squinted.

The skiff turned back, agile compared to the _Skithblathnir_ , and bore the first complement of passengers back to the walkways. They streamed onto the dock proper, making their introductions to the locals come to meet them and, like everybody else, making subtle stares at the two observing humans. Edurik embraced the man he'd been talking to across the dizzying gap, and, at the end of the procession of passengers, Freya collared a man about her height, about her age and just as outrageously ginger as she was. In fact, they looked almost identical; were it not for the fact that Freya was obviously female and her brother obviously wasn't, they could have been indistinguishable.

Her brother broke the embrace first, stepping back and brushing off cat hairs from his bottle-green coat. Tony couldn't make out what they were saying to each other over the chatter and the sound of the opening doors, but once they caught him and Clint looking at them the man came jogging over, the smile on his face polite and welcoming rather than amused.

"I never thought I'd see the day," he said, coming to a halt in front of Clint, "when I met a pair of humans waiting at the skydock." He reached out to shake hands, taking Clint's hand in a gentler grasp than his sister's. "I am Frey Njordson. Freya's told me about you. Clint Barton, I presume? You have an archer's stance."

"That would be me." said Clint, a little less overwhelmed by Frey than he was by the rest of Asgard.

Tony snorted, and Frey turned his attention to him. "And Tony Stark," Frey continued, offering his hand. Tony took it.

He grinned. "I'm kind of a big deal."

"I'm sure." Frey might have said something else, but he instead turned to look at the bay opposite the _Skithblathnir_ , where the shaft of sunlight had disappeared. In its place came another dragon-prow, the name Dhruurlaugaer painted on the hull below a brightly-colored bulls-eye ring. Smaller than the _Skithblathnir_ , she had less trouble maneuvering into the bay, and it didn't take nearly as long to have her tied down and the skiff beside her.

From the deck below emerged a small company of tall - very tall - people, barefooted and with little clothing but loincloths and plain leather kilts. Tony winced as he saw what looked like pieces of bronze or dull brass inserted into the skin on their chests, apparently held in place only by the wrinkled scar tissue around them. Over their skin, which was of varying shades of gray-blue, ran rows of eerily perfect ridges, each person's different from the next. Their breath condensed in front of them, and as they stepped from the wooden deck to the stone walkway, Tony spotted crystals of ice fractaling out from around their feet. Frey had left the other three almost before the first of the giants had stepped off the skiff, and was in the process of making his obeisance.

Not put off by the thick, ropey scars or the filthy looks many of the cohort were giving anyone who looked too long at them, Tony decided to follow along. Clint kept close to him, though whether that was out of concern for himself or for Tony he couldn't tell. The leader of the party, broader and almost taller than the rest, caught Tony's eye.

"The great heroes of Midgard." he said, and Tony felt the air temperature drop a few degrees just by being in his presence.

"Heroes who cannot finish a job." said another, slimmer than the leader but still the tallest one there. Clint's hands made fists again.

The first one grinned, revealing an array of sharp, conical teeth. "You should be glad of that. The Patricide's death is ours by right."

"I beg to differ." said Freya as she approached, one hand on the hilt of her sword. The giants looked down at her with cherry-red eyes. "Whatever Loki's crimes, whatever Loki's blood, he was raised in the house of Odin. I am the royal champion, and the royal executioner. If Loki is to die, it will be by my hand, not yours."

"Damn your eyes, Valkyrie!" snapped the tall one, lurching down at her. "Will Asgard deny us our vengeance as well?" Ice began to grow around his fingers, shaping itself into wicked talons. The broad one held out a hand to stop him, but bared his teeth all the same. All of a sudden Tony wasn't entirely sure he should have investigated.

Frey shifted to put himself between his sister and the angry giants, keeping his attention deliberately on the watching leader. "King Helblindi, please. We do not even know what's to be done with him. Surely this argument is a little premature?"

The leader, Helblindi, made a deep, guttural hiss before hiding his teeth again. He seemed to accept Frey's reasoning, as he leaned back and made a deliberate show of dismissing Freya's words. He gestured for the taller man to step back. "He will die." the giant king said, with an awful lot of certainty. Tony shivered. Maybe it was only the teeth that made him seem predatory.

"So will we all," Frey murmured, before gesturing to the far end of the walkway. "Gentlemen, there are carriages awaiting you outside. You'll be taken to the palace, and shown to your quarters. I pray you will find them comfortable." He bowed, and the step back he took forced Freya to move away as well. The giants looked between themselves, but Helblindi nodded.

"Very well. Thank you, Frey, son of Njord, son of Rekki. We shall see you at the trial." Helblindi growled over the word 'trial'.

Tony and Clint made way for them, and as they passed, Frey whispered to Freya. "This is the reason we didn't send you to Jotunnheim."

"I thought the reason we didn't send me to Jotunnheim was that I killed nine of the royal guard at the Battle of Utgard."

"There are a lot of reasons we didn't send you to Jotunnheim, sister."

As the dock emptied, Tony and Clint took their cue to leave from the increasingly irritable dockhands. Outside, people filed onto an array of carriages that hadn't been there when they had arrived. One of the waiting giants, the tall, angry one, spotted them, and was beside them before they could vanish into the crowd.

"I am Byleistr Laufeyson." he said without being asked. Clint flinched, as though he recognized the name, but Byleistr carried on. "Brother and right hand of Helblindi Laufeyson. You and I are both here seeking retribution."

"You're... Loki's brothers?" said Clint, his tone guarded.

Byleistr spat, his saliva freezing instantly on the ground. "He was born of my mother's womb," he growled, "that is all that can be said of him." He fixed Clint with those uncanny eyes, with the dark pink color where it should have been white. Clint couldn't help recoiling. "We are all pieces on the Liesmith's board." said Byleistr, and Clint's jaw set. "Do not be ashamed. He will bleed for his crimes, and the heavens will rejoice in his agony. On my honor, I swear it."

Clint caught Tony's eye, his expression an unmistakeable 'this guy is absolutely insane'. Byleistr failed to notice, apparently too wrapped up in his vengeful daydream. "But his blood is not yours to take. His first act in this world was to kill my mother. Then my father. Then he tore my city asunder. His death is Jotunnheim's, and his flesh will be given to the crows. No Jotunn cairn will guard him from the foxes. No Aesir fire will carry him to Helheim. He will not be mourned." Byleistr bared his teeth, and both Clint and Tony tried to put some distance between them and him.

"Brother!" came Helblindi's voice from over by the carriages. Byleistr's head whipped around to look at him, and, pulled from his anger, his shoulders dropped. He spared one more glance at Tony and Clint.

"You will have your vengeance, humans." he said, his voice quiet and calm again. "Do not ask for more." He placed a fist over his heart (Tony assumed frost giants kept their hearts in the usual place), fitting perfectly between two pieces of bronze in his chest. He gave the slightest of bows and strode back over to the waiting Helblindi, leaving Clint and Tony standing there alone. They exchanged another look.

Clint watched as the horses pulling frost giants' carriage broke into a gentle trot. "Is everybody here crazy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.' - Douglas Adams


End file.
